


Untold Want

by M_nancywheeler



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Complete, F/M, WW2 AU, domestic AU, posted in installments before completion because insanity, smutty content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-07-27 02:11:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20038207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M_nancywheeler/pseuds/M_nancywheeler
Summary: The year is 1944. Arya Stark seeks to find a sense of place when so much of her world is disrupted by a war beyond her scope or influence.





	1. In search of a home

  
_"THE untold want by life and land ne'er granted,_  
_Now voyager sail thou forth to seek and find."_

_Walt Whitman_

Chapter 1: In search of a home

For what seemed liked her entire life, Arya was told that war a time for heroes despite the countless tragedies that emerged under the catastrophic weight of such conflicts. In war, her family, the Starks of legend, always answered the call to bravery, to heroism. With this spirit, the Starks fought bravely in every conflict that came to pass their lands.

"A Stark proves their truest selves in times of pain and trial for they were wolves without equal."

All those words spoken by her father came to Arya's mind as she turned off the radio in her bedroom. News came over the device every day, and Arya was certain to listen whenever she could so that she did not miss anything new. Not that there was anything good to come out of the news by the sound of things. Bombs over here, countless deaths over there. The world was in chaos outside of Winterfell. In Winterfell, there was some semblance of peace, but how long would that last? Arya could not help but feel a deep foreboding despite the peaceful, fixed future planned out for her.

Summer was finally setting over Winterfell after a long, freezing winter. Arya was glad of that much, certainly. She was sick of being cooped up indoors when she would much rather be out in town where she could watch films at the cinema or eat her favorite wolf bread and apple pie at Hot Pie's Diner. Arya's unbridled desires to be free and do as she pleased only intensified after her father purchased a Pontiac for her personal use as soon as she earned her driver's license. With her new automobile, Arya was positively giddy thinking of all the new freedom that could be hers. She could do anything, see anything, and go anywhere her heart desired.

Her graduation from Sister Mordane's, an elite all-girls boarding school, was only two weeks in the past, but it felt like ages to Arya. Truthfully, she never quite fit in with many of the peers at her boarding school so she counted the days when she could finally leave and come back to Winterfell. Arya always assumed things would be different once she finally graduated. Now she was a woman of eighteen, a woman who would soon go to college and set her own path in the world. Naturally, her path would start with the world that surrounded Winterfell. The thoughts of what she could do were exhilarating. Arya wondered would it be like if she took a drive down to New York City or take a long, winding journey to the Grand Canyon, or Hollywood so she could see if the films were all true.

The Starks were from old money, but they were from unpretentious Puritan stock. Her father, the honorable Senator Eddard Stark, preferred to stay up north. The Starks only travelled to take the occasional family trips to Boston, the upper east side of Manhattan to visit Eddard's younger sister, or visit his wife's relatives in Georgia. But, Arya wanted different things. Arya had bigger fantasies of where she would go when she was finally free to choose her own destinations. Yet, for all her dreams, Arya had one grand obstacle, and that obstacle was her mother, Catelyn.

Catelyn Stark was a senator's wife. She was also the daughter to a great old family, The Tullys. Just like the Starks, the Tullys also first arrived to their country on the Mayflower. Nothing could diminish the sense of pride, duty, and honor that she felt for her family. Catelyn was a woman of great standing in society because she was by all accounts, a true lady. That was a role with great responsibility, Arya knew. There was little idle time in the life of Catelyn Stark. Though she remained in New York while her husband, Ned Stark, was in Washington D.C. representing the state of New York, she was not living a life outside the realm of politics. In her husband's absence, Catelyn Stark not only took great care of their old grand estate, Winterfell, but she also hosted visitors, held banquets for other politicians and important people, and handled most of the local politics as well. Certainly, Arya appreciated her mother's pride and interest in the affairs of her estate and country. Her mother was not a simple housewife, though she was a lady. Arya admired that much immensely. But, what Arya did not like was the enormous interest that her mother took in her younger daughter's life as of late.

Of course, Arya understood the reasons for the sudden scrutiny even though she did not appreciate the results. Arya assumed that the most pressing reason was the war. The war permeated the lives of everyone it seemed. How could it possibly be otherwise? Winterfell and the surrounding Winter Town were not different from the rest of the nation dealing with the thrust into a world war in Europe and beyond. Some men left to the war for patriotism, and some men went in because of the draft. The Starks, as was their solemn duty, were the type of men that entered wars as patriots.

Not one to sit at home while men risked their lives for others, Arya's older brother, Robb, joined the military years ago after graduating from Harvard Law. In the army, Robb Stark quickly picked up rank because of his valor, education, and background. The Starks were honored when he became a sergeant. Though his role was a source of great pride in the family, the reality alone was enough to worry Catelyn day and night. She never spoke of it to Arya, but Arya could, at times, see the sad, pensive look on her mother's face as she knit her famous Tully quilts in the second floor parlor during the brief moments of free time. While Arya was also worried for her brother, she never doubted he would come home. Robb Stark was a Stark, after all. He was brave, ferocious, honorable, and smart. His letters home only confirmed what Arya felt deep down though she had no logical reason to feel such optimism. She knew that the Starks would survive this war as they survived others.

Those feelings were only furthered by the happiness and relief she felt whenever one of Jon's letters also came in the mail. Jon was her cousin and a pilot in the army. Arya could burst with jealousy when she imagined him thrilling adventures as he flew all sorts of astonishing aircraft like the ones she saw in newsreels. Cousin Jon was her one her favorite people, if not her favorite person, despite the fact that he was only able to come to Winterfell during summer or Christmas and Thanksgiving on account of his mother.

There was no secret in the fact that Catelyn Stark had little love and even less to say about her sister-in-law, Lyanna Stark. Arya's Aunt Lyanna was the talk of old scandal and never ending disapproval, Arya knew. She was unmarried, bore a son out of wedlock, and lived in Manhattan where she raised her fatherless son, Jon. The mystery of Jon's father was never revealed to any of the Stark children even though the rumors were always whispered in the background among the adults. Her older sister, Sansa, said she knew the truth from a secret source, but she was not going to tell any of the children. A lady would not spread such gossip was Sansa's excuse for not blabbing straight away. Those were empty taunts to Arya, however. The subject of Jon's father did not matter to Arya because she did not care about any of the stupid things people made up about others. Gossip meant nothing when it came to her family. She loved Jon as much as she loved her brothers, truly. His father could be the president, or the milk man, or a pretty wandering troubadour as far as Arya was concerned.

Though it made her feel guilty, Arya almost envied all the thrills her brothers were surely having in Europe with all their other men-in-arms. Because Arya was a girl, she was not allowed to enlist in the war like her brothers. Rather, she was expected to attend Smith College in the fall. That was to be her enlistment, her contribution to society. Arya could not help but resent that her enrollment into Smith was the primary reason for her mother's scrutiny. Arya Stark was far from the quintessential Smith girl. On the contrary, Arya liked things that her gently bred peers, who would all be her future peers at Smith, she had no doubt, at Sister Mordane's did not care for in the least. The only exception was Arya's love of tennis. But even the tennis team had their limits when it came to Arya's interests. Arya liked cars, hunting with her father and brothers, and devouring the comic books and detective novels she bought at Tarly's Books in Winter Town. She loved going into the shop and picking up whatever caught her eye, but usually her younger brother, Bran, sent her whatever he liked while she was at Sister Mordane's. If those fixations were not enough to paint her as an unusual sort of girl, Arya also liked smoking cigarettes and escaping from Winterfell when she was on break from Sister Mordane’s in order to go into Winter Town so she could sneak into The Peach for a beer and dance to live music. However, the establishment usually only let her in if she was accompanied by one of her kin, usually Jon or Robb before they left to Europe. Beric Dondarrion ran the joint and those were his rules much to Arya's dismay.

Unlike her peers, Arya also could not care less about pretty new dresses in Manhattan shops, or society functions, or dreadful cotillions. Her own cotillion was an unmitigated disaster as her mother and Sansa liked to remind her from time to time. Not that Arya needed them to remind her when she could not even look at Ned Dayne in the eye at the Stark's last Christmas party. His presence reminded her of that horrifying moment when she accidentally tripped him down some steps as they made their entrance to cotillion. The fall left him with a broken nose from hitting the floor, and the skirt of Arya's pretty, delicate "ordered from Paris" lace dress was torn at the hem to the hips. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could make Arya Stark a debutante. Arya was sure of that much, at least. Despite these failures, her mother and sister were both firm in their opinion that attending Smith and joining the right sorority would finally surround Arya in the right atmosphere to become a lady and find a suitable husband. Sansa even assured her that being a college girl was where a young woman truly flourished, especially a well bred girl. On that front, Arya could not argue against a college like Wellesley being the right place for a girl like Sansa. After all, Sansa came back from Wellesley with her Harvard beau, Harry the Heir, and an enormous diamond ring on her finger after only one year in a sorority.

Despite what dreams her mother and sister nursed for her, Arya knew she not the type of girl master her manners and marry. Instead, she was the type of girl to put her key right in the ignition of her Pontiac and drive to across the winding forest roads of the country in order to clear her head. But for the time being, Winter Town was her destination.

When she arrived at Winter Town, she decided the first order of business was to partake in some pie at Hot Pie's.

Hot Pie's Diner was a Winter Town staple. The menu had all of Arya's favorite meals, including an incredibly disgusting Monte Cristo sandwich that she ordered whenever she was feeling especially indulgent. Not that this day was one of those days. Her heart was set on a slice of the diner's signature blueberry pie like the ones she always shared with her father when she was younger.

The second she walked in to the establishment, Arya's memory was jogged by all the scents she felt like she had known forever like warm pie crust, fresh hot coffee, sticky sweet soda from the fountain, and other mixed delicious smells of food emitted from the diner's kitchens.

When Arya was a little girl, her father was only Mayor Stark, and in his duties, he took Arya to Winter Town whenever he could along with her brothers. Sometimes they would even sneak off as just the two of them. Arya treasured those memories because those were the times when she had her father's whole undivided attention. He was not Mayor Stark or Lord Stark in those moments. He was simply her doting father. In Arya's memories of these cherished trips, the pair would often start off the day with a meal at Hot Pie's Diner. Hot Pie's was owned by Hot Pie Senior, but it was now largely run by his son, Hot Pie Junior. Arya may have known his true name, but she could not remember what it was for all the world. Perhaps it was Ben. As children, they used to play outside with some of the other town's children. He was the first person she saw as she took a seat along the diner counter.

Hot Pie looked as cheerful and kindly as she remembered, though she had not been to Winter Town ever since back home from Sister Mordane's. The last time she was in Winter Town was during spring vacation.

His face lit up when he saw her sitting at the counter. "Arry! We haven't seen you in months."

Arya smiled as he greeted her, handing her a diner menu. It was good to be remembered. And it made her feel warm that he still called her by the childhood nickname of "Arry."

"It's swell to see you again, Hot Pie."

He smiled back, putting his hands on his hips over his apron. "Are you back home?"

She nodded. "Yes, actually. I graduated from school so I'm home for the summer. But I think I'll be back in town more often now that I have my car."

Hot Pie looked out the diner window where her shiny gray vehicle was parked on the curb. He let out an appreciative whistle. "That's your Pontiac? It's real nice. I think even Gendry would say so, and he never likes nothing, the old grump."

Just the mention of Gendry's name made Arya feel an odd flutter in her chest. She had not dared ask about his whereabouts since returning to Winterfell. "Gendry? Is he still in town?"

"'Course he is, Arry. Where else would he be? He ain't been drafted, yet. Me neither. I guess we should both thank our lucky stars. You ain't seen him either since you got home?"

"No, I haven't." Arya bit her lip.

Hot Pie shrugged. "I'm surprised to hear that. You guys used to be so close. But, I guess with his mom passing away and all, he isn't at Winterfell so much anymore. Not that any of us have seen much of you since you've away at school. I guess we're all too busy to see each other like we used to when we was kids. Anywho, he sometimes comes here for a cup of joe in the morning before going to the factory."

Before Arya could think of something to say in response, her mouth was forced shut by the sudden entry of Gendry into the diner.

"Speak of the devil!" Hot Pie said in way of greeting to their old friend, moving forward from the diner counter to ambush Gendry with a warm embrace.

Gendry patted him awkwardly on the shoulder in return. "How's it going, Hot Pie? Why are you so damn happy?"

"Because Arry's here! We're all back to being the old gang now," Hot Pie replied in his typical cheerful manner as he pointed Gendry to where Arya was sitting.

Arya felt herself move from cold to flame as his brilliant blue eyes locked onto hers. She raised her eyebrow at him as if she dared him to say something first.

He answered that dare without any reservation. "Haven't seen you in a while."

Arya noticed Gendry looked her up and down as he and Hot Pie walked over towards where she was sitting. Gendry was never subtle in all the years she knew him.

"You look good." The words were tinged with nervousness. She did not expect that.

"So do you," Arya said, trying to appear calm and collected.

If Hot Pie sensed any tension, he failed to mention it or act upon any strangeness between his two friends. Instead, he clasped them both on the shoulders and asked, "Who wants some pie?"

Hot Pie served the pair a plate of pie each with a milkshake side for Arya and a cup of black coffee for Gendry. He also set up a plate for himself so he could sit with them at the counter, but before he could take a bite, he was soon pulled away by customers complaining that their pork sausage was overcooked.

Gendry took a bite of his slice of pie before he launched into his first question. "Are you out of school now? Graduated and everything?"

Arya played with a piece of her own pie. When she answered him, she looked at him straight in the eyes. His striking blue eyes always partially covered by his thick black bangs. "I am. But only for the summer."

He slowly nodded. "You'll be going off to college, then? Like your sister?"

She felt her face go red, but she did not know why. There was nothing to be ashamed of.

The question made her gulp before she answered. "That's right. I'm going to attend Smith  
College in the fall."

Gendry turned his stare back to his food like it had an answer to a riddle he could not solve. But after a moment, he took a bite of his pie before he spoke again while chewing on his food. "Sounds about right, then. Where else would Senator Stark's daughter be in a time like this? Anyways, how did you get to Winter Town? Are you with your mother? Is your sister back?"

Arya shook her head before she pointed her head towards the diner window where there was a view of her parked car. "You see that Pontiac? It's all mine."

Gendry looked where she directed, only turning back to look at her with his thick brows raised. "That's a fine vehicle, Miss Arya."

"Don't call me that," Arya replied with some softness as she recalled how angry she would become when Gendry called her "Miss Arya" as a child in order to annoy her in Winterfell. She did not mind when his mother, Mary, called her that, but she hated to hear it from her friend, Gendry. Yet, as he used his manners with her now, she felt her flush deepened, and that made her feel even more foolish because there was no reason to blush as far as she knew.

He smirked. "Alright, Arya. Say, how about we finish this meal early and take a look at the new car? There's some things in town that wasn't here the last time I remember you being here."

That suggestion brought a smile to Arya's face. He would always be one of her best friends even when so much passed between them. "Deal. Let's get out of here."

The pair quickly jumped off their seats at the counter and waved their quick goodbyes to Hot Pie as finally took his place next to where they were sitting.

"Hey, where you guys goin'?"

Arya was the one to answer as she opened the diner's entry door. "We'll be back, Hot Pie. I'm just gonna take Gendry for a spin in the Pontiac."  
\----  
Arya handed Gendry the keys before they hopped in the car. "It's your town. Lead the way."

He scoffed. "Yes, you're a fine tourist, alright."

Gendry was a smooth, confident driver. He did not drive too fast like Arya was always accused of doing by her family and friends. In his hands, Arya felt perfectly safe and comfortable.

"It feels good to drive. I sold my truck just recently," Gendry said as they turned into the road Arya knew led to High Heart Hill, only a quick drive south of Winter Town.

"Your truck? That old Ford? The Bull? Why?" Arya was astonished by the news.

Gendry loved that Ford. He loved it so much he even named it, "Bull," which she said was stupid, but Gendry was always too stubborn to listen to sense. Gendry was so proud when he first purchased the truck that he immediately went to pick up his mother from a long day at Winterfell. Gendry's mother, Mary, once told Arya she had been a maid at Winterfell ever since she was a girl of nineteen with a baby boy in her arms. Since Gendry often followed his mother as she did her duties about the estate, he practically grew up in Winterfell along with some of the other servants' children. One of Arya's earliest and dearest memories of Mary and Gendry were the times when his mother airing out laundry while Arya and Gendry played in Winterfell's large back estate. When Gendry grew older, he did yard work, cleaned stables, and helped care for the Starks' vehicles in order to make extra money to support their family of two. There he continued to work and attend the local high school in Winter Town until the great big arms manufacturing factory was constructed. At the age of seventeen, Gendry was one of the first hires. He was so big and tall that the men running the factory did not see why he could not work alongside grown men. With his wages, Gendry immediately purchased an old, used Ford truck. This was the truck that he would use to drop off and pick up his mother in Winterfell when his schedule permitted. Three years later, this would also the truck that he would eventually use to take his mother to doctor's appointments when she became ill with "women's sickness" according to Catelyn. Arya knew all this because those were the times when she and Gendry would still exchange letters about the ongoings of each other's lives while she was at school. Sometimes she would even sneak time to talk to him on the phone before a Sister would send her off to bed, or one of the other girls would tell her it was their turn to talk to their boyfriend, too. Arya had a half a mind to tell them that she did not have a stupid boyfriend, but she did not care enough to tell them things about her life at home in Winterfell. They could think whatever they wanted.

However, their communications dwindled to nothing in the last year after Gendry's mother passed away. Because she was stuck at school in Rhode Island, Arya could not attend the funeral before Mary Waters was buried. In the time after she passed, the Starks heard and saw little from Gendry. Arya at least knew he was not making any visits to Winterfell. If he did, she was not made aware.

Gendry kept his eyes focused on the road. "I won't be needing the Bull where I'm headed."

His words sent a gnawing feeling in her stomach. "Where are you going? Are you leaving Winter Town?"

"Yes, I'm leaving. I'm getting shipped out to fight. My draft letter came in so I'm headed off with the other fellas in town that got their letters, too. I was actually going to tell you before, but when I called your school, they said you were not enrolled. The lady who answered got really snippy on the phone with me."

Arya's heart felt sore. She felt like she got shot by his words. "That's so soon! I mean, my mother and sister are going to host the Farewell Feast in Winter Town three weeks from now."

Gendry turned to look at her briefly for a bit before turning his eyes back to the road. His eyes had been so soft they made Arya's knees feel like jelly. "It's sooner than I'd like, but I'm a man fit for fighting. I got to do what's right for my country."

\---  
When they arrived at High Heart Hill, Arya felt her breathing go short. High Heart was eerie and beautiful in all it's strangeness. She had not been to this site in years, but it never failed to both inspire her and give her the creeps at the same time.

Gendry parked on the side of the hill where some parking was set aside for visitors.

Arya nearly leaped out of the car as they left the vehicle to explore their surroundings.

"Do you remember when we were kids, they used to say some old witch lived here?" Gendry asked as they walked along together, making their way up the trail that led to the top of the hill where the weirdwood tree stumps stood.

Arya grinned. "I do remember. And I remember you believed me when I told you the witch found me and told me a prophecy that one time Jory lumped us all in the back of his pickup truck so all us kids could see The Ghost of High Heart."

"I never believed that story," Gendry said in a firm tone.

Arya refused to lose her ground. "You did! It's exactly like you to be stubborn about things you know to be true."

He laughed. "Maybe I did believe you. It's only because I wanted to, not because you made no sense."

What he said confused Arya. "If you thought my story was nonsense then why did you believe me?"

A sly smirk formed on his face but his broad shoulders only shrugged. "I don't know. Sometimes you just got a way of making me act in ways that don't make no sense."

Arya did not know what to say in response so she stayed silent for a few minutes before she did the first thing she could think of.

She pushed Gendry by his shoulder so that he moved slightly to the side.

When he turned to give her a look, Arya found her response at last. "I guess you make me feel the same way. But only every once in a blue moon."

When the pair arrived at the weirwood stumps, Arya quickly plopped herself down to sit by one of the stumps. Though years passed since her last visit to High Heart, Arya could not recall a time when she did not admire the beauty of the remains of the fallen trees. Even Winterfell had one great big one in their back gardens. The tree stump was so ancient that the family considered it to be a legacy of their home. Her father told her that it would defeat all the odds and grow tall one day.

Gendry was quick to follow Arya's lead by taking a seat on the ground right across from where she sat. From where they sat, the pair could not help but stare each other's eyes for a second or two before Gendry broke the spell as he turned his gaze towards the land around them. In his distraction, Arya took the opportunity to finally look at him truly. Gendry was wearing some old brown pants, plain black lace-up shoes, and a thin blue button up shirt that she was certain must have bought at the five-and-dime shop in Winter Town. Despite the modesty of Gendry's attire, Arya thought he looked very handsome. That, after all, was the problem with Gendry. The same problem she encountered for the past three years. Namely, Gendry was too handsome by far. None of that mattered when they were children, but as he became a man, and she started on the path to being a woman, she looked at him differently. This change in her was entirely unbidden. Arya hated how he would make her flush sometimes. Gendry was her friend, after all. His looks were not supposed to change anything. But, they did in ways Arya did not expect. She suddenly felt self-conscious about her own manner of dress. Arya was wearing the denim overalls that her mother hated so much. Perhaps she should have worn a skirt before going into town, but she always hated how frilly and made up they made her look. Normally Arya didn't care if she looked pretty, but that seemed important to her in this moment for some reason.

The only thing to move Arya out of her thoughts was when Gendry picked up a twig off the ground and threw it out into the sky.

"I haven't been here in so long. Though, I've barely done anything fun since my mother died," he said in a soft voice.

"I'm sorry about your mother," Arya said in a quiet voice, her eyes fixed on the ground underneath her legs. She spent the last year wanting to say that to him, but she knew it was far too late to mean anything to him at the moment, surely.

Gendry turned his eyes back on her, his eyebrows were furrowed and his face looked pained as if he was deep in thought. "Thanks. Not that you've done anything to feel sorry for."

Arya ripped some of the grass from the ground. Her teeth tugged on her bottom lip. "I wanted to go to the funeral, you know. But I couldn't get back from Rhode Island on time."

His head gave a slow nod. "I know. It's okay. Like I said, you didn't do anything wrong."

Arya opened her mouth to say something, but Gendry interrupted. "Are you happy to be out of school? I know you didn't like all those rules and stuff."

Arya shrugged. "I don't miss it, that's true. All the uptight nuns and rich girls weren't fun."

Gendry scoffed. "You're a rich girl, ain't you?"

That made Arya crawl over towards him to push him down on the ground, her hands placed over his shoulder as she looked down on him from on top. "What do you know about rich girls?"

At first Gendry said nothing. Rather, his pupils were dilated and he gulped before he responded with "Not enough, I reckon."

When Gendry licked his bottom lip, Arya had a brief imagining of what it would be like to kiss his chapped lips, to bite on the bit of skin enough to bleed. But instead of being so bold, she snapped out of that thought and pushed herself off of Gendry. She sat back down on the ground.

"Very funny, you chucklehead."

Gendry only propped himself up on his elbows and pointed his head toward the stream that flowed along the side of the hill. His thick black bangs spilled over his blue eyes. "Wanna go see the water? It's getting mighty warm. We could get our feet wet."

Arya pushed her hair back behind her ears. "I suppose."

Arya practically sprinted off down the hill, and Gendry followed her as fast as he could.


	2. A hasty word you can't recall

chapter 2: a hasty word you can't recall

In the following two weeks after Arya's trip to High Heart with Gendry, she split most of her hours between her duties at Winterfell and traveling to Winter Town to enjoy the town's many simple pleasures. Though she spent a good deal of her time helping townspeople or partaking in Hot Pie's wide variety of pastries, Arya usually longed to find Gendry outside of of his shifts from the factory so they could spend what little moments they could spare together. Whey they did manage to find one another, the pair would walk around the town square, eat at Hot Pie's, visit the woods, or play with Gendry's football in one of the town's park. These moments, though simple, were the best time Arya had in the longest time. Not since her brother and cousin left home. Gendry wasn't her brother, however, so she could be even more of herself around him. He never shrugged off anything she said or turned down any of her ideas. Well, almost never. In spite of asking half a dozen times, Gendry refused to take her to the cottage he was renting on the outskirts of town from Mr. Dondarrion. A room of one's own seemed so adult to Arya. She wanted to see how Gendry's looked, but he would not budge on the matter.

"Why not?" Arya asked time and time again.

"It's not right, thats why." Gendry insisted every single time without fail.

"You only say that because I'm a girl."

"Shit, it looks like that fancy school did smarten you up, after all."

With such a response, Gendry could not possibly blame Arya for shoving him so hard that he toppled onto the sidewalk.

Arya's time in Winterfell was usually at her mother's side. If Arya was not answering letters, writing thank-you notes, or making calls, she was knitting articles of clothing like scarves or hats with her mother. To be certain, Arya liked some parts of these tasks. Mostly she liked phoning up members of the constituency and talking to all the townspeople lobbying to her mother about this problem or that issue. For the most part, they were great fun to talk to in Arya's opinion. On the other hand, she found chatting with the perpetually ornery Lady Dustin about whether Senator Stark could prevent further development along her lands made Arya want to chew on glass. Yet, even those chats wound up with better results than her knitting. The fact that Arya's hats ended up looking more like socks more often than not did little to settle any feelings of restlessness that stirred inside her when she spent too much time in the new quiet of Winterfell.

There was no denying the fact that Winterfell was dull more often than not without her father, brothers, or old friends. If Bran were not spending the summer with his friends, the Reeds, and Rickon was not enrolled in a boy's summer camp, Arya knew without a doubt that she would have a great deal more fun at home. Circumstances as they were, the expectations placed on Arya to be a lady were heightened when it was just her and Catelyn running the enormous estate. The enormity of this undertaking felt too stifling for words as the days dragged on. Arya was so weary of her solemn duties that she was actually glad to hear Sansa was coming home in order them arrange the Farewell Feast in Winter Town. Perhaps her sister's visit home would alleviate some of her mother's scrutiny. However, Arya's enthusiasm begun to wane the moment Sansa walked into Arya's bedroom with her arms weighed down by a number of shopping bags. One of the those bags was placed by Sansa right over Arya's lap.

Arya stared down at the Bloomingdale's shopping bag with suspicion. "What's this?"

Sansa rolled her eyes like she always did whenever she thought someone was asking her a stupid question. She took a seat in at the seat of Arya's desk while Arya sat atop her bed. "What do you think it is? It's a dress. Randa Royce and I were doing a little light shopping in Manhattan last week. Mother phoned me and asked if I could find you a dress for the Farewell Feast because you've grown out of all your other party dresses. She didn't have time to go into the city and you don't have any patience for shops. So I took the initiative to find you one at Bloomie's since I already planning a trip to find something for myself," Sansa paused for a second when she saw the pained face her sister made, "Dear, don't make that awful face, please. It's not becoming. You haven't even pulled the dress out of the bag. Perhaps you'll like it. There's also a pair of shoes at the bottom."

Arya braced herself for whatever pink or lilac silk dress or sister no doubt chose for her. Instead, she pulled out a fine dark green dress with a brown belted waist, pleated skirt, and a lace collar adorned with a pattern of acorns. Arya tried her best not to make a face as she opened the shoe box only to find a pair of pale green Mary Jane heels.

"Thanks, I suppose." Arya said as she shoved the box and dress back into the bag before casting it on the side of her bed. Perhaps the dress could have been worse.

"You're welcome---I suppose. I think we'll have to see about your hair as well. It's in dreadful need of a trim," Sansa observed before pulling out a long cigarette from her pocketbook. The smell of her tobacco and Shalimar perfume filled the air of Arya's bedroom.

As Arya inhaled the mix of aromas, she went flat against her bed and closed her eyes. Her week was about to last an eternity.  
\---

Arya was spared no time for herself in the week leading up to the Farewell Feast. All of her waking hours were taken up by arranging all the preparations in the Winter Town's recreation center. Catelyn and Sansa were naturals at such event planning, of course. They had keen eyes for the finest details like table decor and seating arrangements. All of those things bored Arya to tears, but she had little choice but to accompany them on cake tastings and trips to Olenna's to choose floral settings for the tables.

The worst of part of being so involved in the planning committee to Arya was not being able to see Gendry during this time. She would call him at night from the telephone in her room, but he was usually tired from work or she was tired from another terribly long day with her mother and sister. Still, Gendry was the bright spot of her days. There was nothing more that Arya wanted than to see him again before he left to war with all the other boys.

The prospect of Gendry's leave was a topic that neither wanted to discuss. They avoided that conversation more and more as the date of his leave came ever closer. Only laughter and talk of the old memories they shared would come up in the absence of other subjects. The future, so clearly not promised, did not enter the picture.

Saturday night came faster than Arya could have anticipated. A hope that it would never come lingered despite the impossibility.

When Arya and her family arrived at the ornate red, white, and blue Farewell Feast, Arya's eyes immediately searched the room for Gendry amidst the dozens of other young men in uniform surrounded by friends and family. She bit her lip as she failed to spot him. Sure, the big band played happy festive music that filled the room with excitement and joy, but Arya could find little to happy about in the shape of things to come.

"Come along, dear," Catelyn whispered in her daughter's ear as she linked her arm into her daughter's arm and carried Arya along the hall up to the recreation center's stage. The attention made Arya feel embarrassed. Arya was not used to this much spotlight on her for simply being a Stark. She was used to the crowd on the tennis court, but Farewell Feast was definitely not a tennis match. As if she needed more factors to add to her discomfort, Arya felt rather silly in her acorn party dress on while walking across the stage with a little wobble in the green Mary Jane heels. She could only imagine how absurd she looked with red lipstick drawn on her mouth and her hair made up in victory rolls done only because Sansa insisted they visit the Winter Town Beauty Parlor that afternoon. The effect was that Arya felt more like a doll than herself no matter how much her mother or sister said she looked much nicer than usual.

Catelyn Stark took the stage mic once an impressive crowd settled into the recreation center. She gestured at the band to turn down the music and tapped on the mic before speaking. All eyes fell upon Lady Stark and her daughters.

"Greetings, everyone. What a crowd! I must start off this event by saying how truly marvelous it is to see so much of Winter Town attend this Farewell Feast. We are all here to celebrate our proud men and boys headed off to fight this tremendous war. These brave men of ours will be fighting for our lives, our country, our freedom. Gifts we could never hope to repay. They are sacrificing what is most precious in order to bring us peace once more. And for that, I would request that all of our courageous soldiers in the crowd please step forward towards the front of the stage."

Arya saw a number of men make their way to the front of the stage. Many of them received claps on the shoulders or hoots as they did so. When they all gathered up front, Arya finally saw Gendry standing tall and handsome. As if he had been searching for her as well, their eyes locked and nothing could break the concentration of their mutual gaze. Not even Catelyn's speech, with asides from Sansa, could tear Arya's eyes away from Gendry's. Later on, Arya could not recall a single word of what her mother or sister said as the next couple minutes went on. The only sounds she managed to catch were the ones calling on the audience to clap. Arya followed along, clapping loudly with the crowd of people who were hooting and hollering. Wasting no time to heed Catelyn Stark's final declaration for celebration, the big band began to play on for the crowd.

When Arya stepped off the stage, she fully intended to find Gendry. But before she could get far onto the feast floor, her hand was clasped by a young man in a soldier's uniform who she knew as the quiet Podrick Payne.

Arya stared down at her hand in his and then at his face. "Why, hello. Is there a reason why you've got your hand in mine?"

His face flushed. "Sorry. I just---sorry. Didn't mean to be so forward. You're just awful quick."

Arya pulled her hand away. "Did you need something? It's Podrick, right?"

He nodded his head. "That's right. I'm Podrick Payne. And you're Arya Stark. I used to sometimes see you at Tarly's Books...and I was just wondering if you wanted to have a dance. I rather like this song the band is playing. Promise I'm not a dead hooper."

Arya took one look at the crowd to find Gendry but he was nowhere to be seen. She lost Gendry amidst the shuffle of the dance floor. Then she turned back to see Podrick's expectant face. "Just one dance. I've got to see someone."

Podrick's face broke into a great big grin. "Sounds mighty fine to me, Arya Stark. One dance from you is all I need."

Arya rolled her eyes. "I bet you say that to all the dames."

"Just the interesting ones."

Turned out Podrick told the truth about his dancing abilities. Arya had some fun, though she tried her best not to twist her ankle in her heels, dancing with Podrick for a particularly long and fast paced song as the recreation hall filled the hot summer air. She had so much fun turning up a sweat that she was almost loathe to leave his side.

"That was a lot of fun," Arya said as she wiped some sweat off her forehead.

Podrick wiped some of the sweat he drummed up as well. "I thought so, too. Hope you have a swell night with whatever dish you're off to see, Arya Stark."

She smiled. "You too, Podrick. And, good luck. I hope we see each other when you get back from the war."

"Same here."

When Arya finally found Gendry, he was leaning against a corner wall with a glass of punch in his hand.

"I've been looking for you," Arya said.

One of his eyebrows turned up. "Surprising. I saw you cutting up a rug with Podrick Payne."

Arya felt her flush face. "It was only one dance. Figured that would be a nice thing to do considering you're all headed off on Monday morning."  
  
He nodded his head, his jaw looked a bit tense. "Yeah, suppose that's true. I don't really like dancing, though."

A smirk crept upon Arya's face. "Do you even know how to dance?"

It was Gendry's turn to blush. "Not really, no."

Arya bit her lip. "Probably too late to teach you, I imagine. Say, do you want to get out of here? It's awful stuffy and loud. We can go for a walk around the town."

At last a smile formed on Gendry's face. "I'd like that. Big parties like this are not what I'm keen on."

Arya tilted her head to the side. "What are you keen on?"  
\----  
The air was hot and sticky with the promise of a future storm as Arya and Gendry walked out into the town's streets. Despite the scattered dark clouds, there was enough moonlight to provide the pair some light as they walked along the town for what seemed like an eternity to Arya.

"I heard they're planning a real celebration down at Dondarrion's." Arya said.

"Wanna check it out?" Gendry asked.

Arya made a face. "Not truly. I could have rum and cola any night. I don't have many more nights to spend with my one of my oldest friends."

Gendry shoved his hands in his pockets. Arya thought he looked rather handsome in his uniform but she did not tell him so. "Am I one of your oldest friends?"

Arya gave him an incredulous look. "Of course you are! We've been friends since we were kids at Winterfell. You might even be my best friend as it stands. Am I yours? I know a lot came between us in the last year so I understand if you don't feel the same way."

Gendry said nothing at first. "I suppose you are. Kind of feels different now, though, doesn't it?"

Arya could feel her heart pound in her chest. She wondered if Gendry could make out the thumping. A boldness came over her. Arya took Gendry by his hand. "It does, but not in a bad way. It's kind of exciting now, I think."

Gendry stopped walking. His eyes glanced down at her hand clasped in his own. To Arya's surprise, he even licked his lower lip. "I think so. I feel it, too."

What was it? Arya did not know how to phrase what she felt but she knew it felt like an intense electricity that made sparks erupt in her. Sparks like lust and need for him that coursed through her whenever they were together or apart.

The same question she had been asking for weeks came to her. "Gendry, can we go to your cottage?"

His pupils were wide when his eyes met hers. Arya thought he would refuse her like he did before, but this time was different. He said, "Alright, then." Arya led him to where her Pontiac was parked.

Gendry's cottage was smaller than Arya imagined. There was a small bed and desk at the center of the space. Next to that, there was a stove and kitchen table only fit for one.

"It's not much," Gendry said in a sheepish voice as he closed the cottage door behind them after they entered.

"I think it's wonderful. Can I turn on the radio?" Arya asked without waiting for an answer as she ran over to turn on the radio atop the desk. A romantic song played over the device. A soft guitar strum accompanied by a chorus of warm men's voices lulled the room into a soft haze.

"I like this song," Gendry said, pushing the kitchen table chair towards Arya. He gestured for her to sit. Arya took his cue, taking a seat and looking over at her dear old friend leaning against his desk.

"I don't think I know it."

Arya nodded her head to the soft sway of the chorus. "It's nice."

When the song ended, a disk jockey's voice came over the station. "That was The Mills Brothers singing 'Always Hurt The One You Love.' And so concludes this broadcast. Remember to send any song requests for the next broadcast along to the station number but not before hearing a word from some of our sponsors--"

Gendry moved over to turn off the radio and then took a seat on his bed. "I'm glad you're here."

His voice was low and the intensity was enough to make Arya shiver. "Why's that?"

Gendry took a heavy breath and pat his hands over his knees. "Because--I wouldn't want to leave home without some time to really remember you before it's too late."

Arya felt the sparks trickle up from her toes to her lungs to her earlobes.

"Are you scared?" She asked.

"Scared of what?"

"The war, stupid."

Gendry took a heavy breath. "Fuck, yes. I'm scared. I've never been out of New York, but now I'm going to some different country, a whole different continent. And who knows what the fuck to expect there except there'll be guns and bombs and tanks like in all the newsreels. But there's nothing to do about it. I'm not a coward. I'm going to fight."

That's when Arya felt the sparks inside her turn into an explosion. Rather than stay sitting upon the table chair, she followed the was the burning instinct brimming inside of her. This instinct was to kiss Gendry. Not only kiss him, but kiss him stupid. She recalled a scene in one of her detective novels where the detective was described as having "ravished" the novel's mystery heroine once he understood the depth of his attraction. Well, that's the only word that came to mind when Arya crawled into Gendry's lap, her arms circling over his broad shoulders, and her mouth crashing over his chapped, welcoming lips. Ravish. Arya Stark wanted to ravish Gendry Waters. She wanted to ravish him right and proper.

Arya felt something in combination of surprise, delight, and pure lust when she felt Gendry kiss her back with the same fervor. She could not help but rub herself against his warm, firm, strong body when he wrapped his arms around her midsection, his hands slipping down to grab her behind.

The pair continued to kiss in a fever state, only pausing when Arya pushed him down onto his back. She pulled herself up from the kiss and looked down on him. Gendry's mouth was smeared with her red lipstick, but he was still a vision with his freshly cropped hair and now rumpled uniform.

"I've wanted to do that forever," she said in a breathless manner.

His eyes looked her over in appreciation. "I've wanted to do this since we were at High Heart a couple weeks ago. You looked very pretty in your overalls and lace up shoes."

Arya's cheeks went pink. "You thought so?"

Gendry nodded. "I do like this dress, too, though."

Arya could not help but roll her eyes. "I look so stupid. Just like an oak tree with these absurd acorns on the collar."

"A very beautiful oak tree, though," Gendry said before pulling himself up a little only to pull Arya's face down with his hand. Arya could not dare utter any sound but a moan as his large, calloused hand cusped her chin and his thumb stroked her bottom lip. When Arya licked the flat of his thumb, Gendry groaned and pulled her chin down to press her lips hard into his.

Their kiss was hurried and rough. So was their undressing. A desire coursed over her in a way she could not have imagined. Arya and Gendry both made fast work of their clothes, only pausing to kiss or throw their garments over the side of the bed. Arya had never seen a man naked before Gendry but she was entranced by what she saw beneath her. Gendry was strong, muscled, tall, and lean. When her eyes drifted down from the trail of dark curls from his chest down to his abdomen all the way to his cock, she bit her lip.

Gendry was fondling her breasts when she asked the question most pressing to her at the moment.

"Gendry?"

"Yes?" His voice was croaked.

"I think I ought to have something to remember you by." Her voice went soft as she led his hands down onto the top of her underpants, the only remaining piece of clothing she wore.  
His blue eyes were piercing when they met gaze. Gendry blinked hard before he asked, "Are you sure? You done it before."

Arya smiled. "Yes, I'm very certain," her hand slipping down to palm his erection. "It's as good as time as any to try it, I think."

Gendry nodded. "Swell. Alright, just let me get something." He sat up, placed another kiss on Arya's lips, and made to lean over the bed and grab his wallets from his uniform pants. Arya saw Gendry pull out what she recognized as a condom based on what her peers at Sister Mordane's kept in stashes in their dormitories.

Arya watched as he placed the rubber over himself. She felt herself blush as he leaned over to kiss her tenderly once more before he pressed her down onto the bed. The pair kissed with a passion that continued to build, until they were both breathless and sweaty from the heat of one another.

Arya gasped when Gendry wrapped hr legs around his hips as he positioned himself over her entrance. She could feel him hesitate even though she was wet and aching.

"I want you," was all she needed to whisper before he pressed into her. His face burrowed into her neck, his moans making Arya melt as they reached her ears.

\---  
Arya kissed Gendry before she left back home. She'd snuck into Winterfell before the morning, but it was a fruitless endeavor.

When she awoke in her bed, her mother was at the door as if waiting for her younger daughter to see her the instant she awoke.

"Where were you last night? Your car was gone."

Arya wrapped her heavy quilt around her. "Nowhere."

Catelyn inhaled through her nose. "I was told you left the recreation center with Gendry Waters."

So her mother knew. What use was there to lie? "Fine, yes. I left with Gendry."

Catelyn was quiet. She closed the door to Arya's bedroom and walked over to her bed. "What were you doing with Gendry that could possibly last so long at night?"

"We were talking. He's leaving with the other men."

Catelyn's hands clasped tougher. Her lips were pursed. "I won't say I'm not disappointed or upset because I am, Arya."

"Of what!" Arya nearly shouted.

Her mother's eyes flashed. "Do not yell at me. I am your mother. And if you have any shame, you won't shout out your indiscretions so that the whole of Winterfell can hear. Do you want them to know what you've done in Poughkeepsie?"

Arya snorted in response. Everything her mother said felt absurd. Arya was no longer a child. So what if she made love to a boy? What did it matter?

Catelyn stood up from the bed. She seemed to be as angry as Arya felt. "You won't be seeing him off tomorrow."

Arya watched her mother walked towards the door and put her hand on the doorknob. But before she could open the door, Arya said, "Excuse me, Mother?"

Catelyn turned to look at Arya. "I think I was perfectly clear. You will not see that young man off tomorrow. You've done enough to bring shame on yourself and your family."

A fierce indignation grasped at Arya's heart. "What if I go? You can't tell me what to do. I'm not a child."

Catelyn was silent for a pause. "If you go, I will have no other choice but to tell your father. Would you like to tell him about you disgraced yourself?"

Nothing could come out of Arya's mouth. Any words were caught like a rabbit stuck in a trap.

Taking Arya's silence for an answer, Catelyn opened the door and stepped out of the room.

\---  
A month passed when a letter from the military arrived in Winterfell's mail. When Arya saw it amidst the other bills and junk mail, she ripped the envelope open.

Her eyes quickly searched over the header and onto the letter's main text.

"ON BEHALF OF THE WAR DEPARTMENT OF THE UNITED STATES IT IS MY SAD DUTY TO INFORM YOU THAT YOUR SON, SERGEANT ROBB STARK , IS OFFICIALLY REPORTED AS KILLED IN ACTION JULY NINTH..."

Arya felt a terrible hole in her heart as though she was shot herself. She dropped the letter onto the foyer's marble side table. Her eyes filled with tears as the words sunk into her heart. Robb was dead.

"Mommy!" She shouted. As if by magic, she was reduced to being a small girl again crying for her mother.

Catelyn stepped in quickly from the adjoining salon. Her face was concerned. "Arya, what's wrong?"

Arya could only cry as she embraced her mother. "A letter came in from the army. Robb's dead."

\----  
The funeral was somber and respectful. All of the Starks not at war gathered to Winterfell in order to honor the fallen hero, Robb Stark.

Arya stood alongside her siblings and parents as they buried the eldest of the Stark children. He was their pride and joy. And now he was gone. The Stark's banner flew at half staff.

\---

Another month passed with no news on Jon Snow or Gendry. A part of her was glad, another part was terrified. If there was no news from the army or personal letters sent by their own hand, then perhaps there was nothing to fear. But she also worried that it would only be a matter of time before another army sealed letter arrived in Winterfell's mail.

Eventually, time swept along so quickly that the date of Smith's fall semester was within a week. Arya knew her mother busied herself, trying to bury her grief, by planning the arrangements for Arya's arrival. Her furniture was purchased and her room was guaranteed in a fine sorority with a respectable house mother. Even Arya's courses were carefully chosen by her mother. Frankly, it was of no concern to Arya. Some days, she could not even bother to get out of bed let alone care about going to some stupid finishing school. But as the date of her start at school approached, Arya felt a gnawing restlessness again. The same one she felt before Robb died, before Gendry left. She wanted to be anywhere but home. And she definitely did not want to be at Smith.

The solution hit her one early morning. Arya stepped out of bed, showered, gathered her belongings in an old leather Louis Vuitton luggage owned by her aunt when she was girl. Arya then quietly made her way out of Winterfell and stepped into her car, turned on the ignition, and drove away without a word to her mother.  
\---  
New York City was not a place Arya knew well. She had only been accompanied by her family. But, with the map kept in the Pontiac's glove compartment in hand, Arya managed to somewhat make out the complex map of Manhattan. At least she was successful enough to make it to her destination. A sigh of relief came over here as she finally ended up upon the upper east side address she longed to reach. There she looked upon a tall pale blue apartment building with beautiful windows and elegant details.

When Arya told the door man she was a Stark, he let her into the building immediately. By memory, Arya pressed the elevator towards the third floor.

She breathed deeply as she stood before the door to the apartment. Plucking all the courage she had, Arya knocked on the door.

When the door opened, a woman appeared at the door. Slender, pale, and dark haired with a face that mirrored Arya's own.

Her voice was concerned when she spoke. "Arya? I wasn't expecting you."

Arya bit her lip. "I don't have anywhere else to go, Aunt Lya. Can I stay here?"

Lyanna Stark's shoulders fell as she exhaled. "Of course, my darling niece. Come in."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. I know. Sads. But it had to happen. Feedback, constructive and just general thoughts, is very welcome! I'm so glad this has readers. Thanks for reading <33


	3. You've travelled far and wide

Chapter 3: You've travelled far and wide

Lyanna Stark arranged her guest bedroom for her niece, Arya. Before this event, she was never allowed the pleasure of taking care of one of her treasured nieces. Even in such troubled circumstances, she allowed herself to enjoy the setting of fresh sheets and extra pillows for the poor lost girl. Looking at Arya now was like being witness to a walking memory. A memory of herself as a lost girl of eighteen. The girl was quiet but grateful. For most of her life, Lyanna was content to have just Jon. Her wonderful, miracle of a son. But, as she bid her niece a good night and closed the door to the guest bedroom, she found herself longing for a daughter of her own. Life sometimes had unexpected joys and punishment. Lyanna was grown enough to know this, but she did not try to guess why she was made to feel both happiness and anguish in this particular moment.  
\---  
When Arya awoke, she felt muggy air and the bright morning sun peering from the guest bedroom window kiss her face. For a second, she almost forgot where she was. But then the knock on the door reminded her of where she was.

"Arya, dear? Are you awake?" Aunt Lyanna's bright voice called outside the bedroom's door.

"Yes, I am. I'll be out there right now." Arya exclaimed as she jumped into the fresh clothes her aunt set aside from her on an ottoman near the bed.

As Arya stepped out of the bedroom, she looked around her Aunt Lya's apartment in silence before her aunt gestured for her to take a seat on the salon's sofa. Not knowing what else to do, Arya took a seat. Her aunt took the seat opposite her on a blue, floral chaise.

“This morning has been very quiet. I haven't heard one single ring from the telephone. So, I don't take it your mother knows you're here," Aunt Lya said in a quiet voice, her hands folded in her lap.

Arya bit her lip. She took in the vision of her aunt. Lyanna Stark was beautiful and stylish. She had long brown hair that was almost unkept and she wore a large white silk blouse tucked into some fancy looking grey trousers. Her slippered feet were crossed. There was an effortless loveliness to her aunt. Arya could never imagine herself being so composed.

A difficult gulp passed in Arya's throat before she answered. But, when she did answer, Arya found that all her words and feelings came out in a tumult. "No, she doesn't know I'm here. I couldn't tell her! I can't tell her anything. She just won't be reasonable. You don't how my mother is. First, all my brothers left. Then I came back from school and no one was home. I didn't have anyone. Not really. Not until I saw Gendry again. And things were different now. Really different. But then he had to go and get drafted and I just wanted him so badly. Before it was too late. You can't know what that's like, Aunt Lya---"

Lyanna interrupted the rant. "I think I can, Arya." Her face was the picture of concern and tenderness.

Her remark left Arya confused. She opened her mouth to speak before pausing to consider what her aunt said. "What do you mean?"

Her aunt pursed her lips and pushed her shoulders back. "I don't know how much I should tell you, to be honest."

Arya's eyes widened. "You can tell me anything, Aunt Lya. I swear. Any secret of yours is safe with me. I'd never betray you."

A smile formed on Lyanna's face. "I know that, darling. You've always been such a sweet child. Well, you're no child any longer. Jon always spoke of you so highly. His dear little cousin. I wish I could've been more of a presence for you and your siblings. I wanted to speak to you and your siblings at the funeral for Robb, but I think your mother---"

Arya shook her head. "My mother is so unreasonable. She thinks she knows for everything! I know she never wanted us to get close to you because..." Arya stopped herself from saying more, not wanting to offend her aunt.

Lyanna took a deep breath before she spoke. "Because of Jon. Because I am unwed and a mother at once. I know very well Catelyn Stark thinks of me. She and all my other peers in society feel that way. If I hadn't inherited this apartment from some of the last of the Manhattan Starks, where would I be? Destitute, surely. That's what they think. But the don't know me."

Arya could feel her a rage for her aunt and herself bubble into a voice that verged on sobbing. "Aunt Lya, that's exactly how I feel. They don't know me. My mother doesn't understand."

Lyanna tilted her head, a frown forming on the edges of her mouth. "Your mother wants you to be a good daughter. A real lady. My father expected the same of me. But then I had an affair with a man. A married man, no less."

A realization fell over Arya. She asked, "Jon's father?"

Lyanna's face went blank. "That's exactly right. His name isn't important. He's not even alive anymore. But the damage was done. I refused to deny my son or marry Robert Baratheon just to cover up my pregnancy. That's what my father wanted. They all wanted me to hide."

"But you refused to hide."

The blank expression on Lyanna's face was suddenly replaced with a bright rueful smile. "They could never hope to stop me."

Arya smiled back at her aunt. They shared a truth in common. "They can't stop me either. Not my mother, not my father, even."

Lyanna laughed. "You got that from me, unfortunately. And perhaps some of your Uncle Brandon. Look, Arya, I don't think your mother would ever forgive me if I didn't tell you that it would be wise for you to return home---"

"Who cares what my mother thinks!" Arya snapped.

Lyanna looked to the ceiling of her apartment and then looked Arya in the eye as she spoke. "I'm a mother, Arya. So I feel some strange kinship. I would be remiss if I didn't do that much on another mother's behalf. However, you're my darling niece. If you don't want to go back, I won't make you. I won't ring her up. You can stay here as long as you like."

Arya pondered the offer. Being in this place felt right. That's why she ended up in Manhattan of all places. It was wear she was meant to be for the time being.

"I want to stay."  
\---  
Arya felt the first waves of joy that she'd felt in weeks when Aunt Lyanna exclaimed that the first order of business was to celebrate. The pair left the apartment in a rush. Arya was dressed in one of her aunt's exotic coats from her travels. She felt extremely stylish, but in a good way. This coat made her feel like an adult woman. Just like her Aunt Lya who wore a striking but entirely strange Schiaparelli coat as they strutted down the city pavement.

"You've travelled far and wide, haven't you, Aunt Lya?" Arya asked as they were in a grocery. Arya told her aunt that she had a meal planned for as a way of saying thanks.

Her aunt was admiring a display of roses, her eyes fixed on a bouquet of blue winter roses. "Of course, I have! Jon loves to travel, thank my lucky stars. I would've been upset if I had a homebody for a son, but he is an adventurer."

Arya smiled. Jon did always have the best stories of the places he'd been with his mother. "I'd love to travel."

Lyanna picked up the roses and placed them in one arm while her other arm carried a fresh loaf of bread. "You will. If that's what you want. When I your age, before Jon came along, I thought I'd just ride my horse into the wild and join up with some bandits. Or, maybe, I would defeat the bandits just like the heroes in the talkies. I used to be an expert horse rider."

Arya laughed. "Like an outlaw or a cowboy! I could do that. Better that than see my mother again."

"Don't say that, Arya." Lyanna said as the pair walked out of the grocery.

Arya ignored her aunt. Her attention fixed on a five and dime shop's display window. She saw a map of the world among the assortment of cheap knick knacks.

When she spoke, Arya was breathless. "Aunt Lya, let's go in there."

"Do you need something in there?"

"Yes, do you see that map?" Arya pointed to the map.

Lyanna nodded her head in reapplication. "Oh, yes. I suppose the wold world is leaning geography now that we're in a war."

Without another word, Arya stepped into the store and immediately purchased the map, pencils, and some letter paper. That night, with the help of her Aunt Lyanna, Arya marked all the places where Robb and Jon mentioned in their letters. She travelled with them even if they didn't know it.

Inspired by her travels by paper, Arya finally found the courage after a few weeks with her aunt, and pulled out a pencil to draft out letters to Jon and Gendry.  
\---  
Dear Jon,

I miss you dearly. I don't know where you are. Perhaps I'm sending this to nowhere. I would hate that! I don't know if you know yet, but Robb died. Robb died. I can hardly stand to write that. There's no words that can express how horrible I feel. Sometimes I don't think anything makes sense anymore. I don't know if you'll ever even read this but I hope you do. I miss having you to talk to and to share secrets with. You were always who I told all my deepest secrets. Nothing has changed. I promise.

I don't know what it's like in the war. I'm scared for you. I used to be jealous that you and Robb got all the adventures, but now, now I'm not. Now I'm terrified that you'll go to. That's my first secret. I'm scared. Here's my second: I'm in love. You wouldn't expect it, but I am. I don't know if you remember Gendry Waters. He was drafted, too. My mother didn't want us to be together, so I left home, and then I wound up at your mother's apartment. That's my third secret because I didn't tell anyone where I was going. She's been so kind to let me stay here. I wish you could be here with us. We've had all sorts of fun even though the city's been bleak. Still, she took me to see some plays, to the opera (I think she cried when a tenor sang a sad song, but I didn't say anything) and we even went to a bar. Can you believe it? Like I said before, I wish you were her to enjoy it with us. Please write to me soon. If I could just know you were okay, I think I would feel better on that front at least. I miss you something fierce.

\---Your cousin, Arya.

Jon read the letter as he reached a base in France. He'd been on covert mission for months without reading a single personal letter. His heart swelled with longing to hear of his mother and little cousin.

Without waiting a second, he asked if anyone in the barracks had a pen and paper. He was going to write Arya and his mother letters.  
\---

My Gendry,

I love you, Gendry. I love you so much. I know it. You'll probably be stupid and say that I don't, but I do. God, I don't know how it happened, but I think of you all the time. I wonder if you're okay, if you're happy, if you're doing alright. I can't help imagine you when the news comes over the radio or I catch a glimpse of the day's newspaper. I wish I could be with you. I wish I could kiss you and make love to you all over again like we did in that cottage before you left. Please don't think that I didn't want to see you off before you left because I did. Truly.

My brother, Robb, died weeks before as I'm writing this letter. My heart still aches thinking about it. It's like I know he's dead, but my head and heart still haven't reconciled the fact. I still imagine that he'll send me a letter, that he'll come back with you and Jon when the war is done. That's crazy, I know, but it's the truth. Is that how you felt when your mother passed away? I'm so sorry. I didn't know losing someone could hurt this much.

Please, Gendry, write back as soon as you can. I need to know you're okay. I'm fine. I'm staying with my Aunt Lyanna in Manhattan. She's wonderful! I think you'd love to meet her. I've told her all about you.

I'm waiting for you to come. I swear we'll do anything you'd like! But first we could have some pie at Hot Pie's.

Love,  
Arya.

Gendry looked over the letter for the hundredth time as he rested in the dirt of the trench. He wished he could write to Arya, but he didn't get the letter until he was shipped out to the trenches. NOt that it stopped him from stuffing the letter into his shirt. He suspected the letter wouldn't survive very long in the elements, but the more he could read it, the longer he could commit the words to memory.

Arya loved him. Arya Stark. She was too good for him, he thought. Why she wanted a poor doomed bastard like him was beyond his understanding. But that didn't mean his heart didn't soar whenever he read "I love you, Gendry" in her tidy writing. He could hear her voice say it in his head. Jesus Christ, he loved her, too.  
\---  
Arya was teaching her aunt how to bone a fish in the kitchen when the lesson was interrupted by a knock at he apartment door.

Lyanna wiped her hands over her apron. "I'll go see who it is."

Arya continued to prepare the fish, but she stopped at once when she heard her father's voice. Feeling a mixture of dread and excitement, Arya rushed to the salon. She saw her father standing in the foyer with her aunt.

"I'm sorry, Ned," Her aunt said, not looking her brother in the eye.

Her father shut his eyes. When he opened his eyes, they were fixed on his younger sister. "Lya, you did the best thing you could've done. I would've liked a ring, however."

Arya interjected. "I told her not to tell anyone. I didn't want---I didn't want to be found."

Her father looked at her. His stern face, so often prone to melting before her, was pure steel. "Your mother is in pieces."

Arya stood her ground. She folded her arms over her chest. "Only because she can't control me."

His face softened. "I don't know what happened between you and your mother, Arya. She won't tell me. All I know is that she is distressed. She doesn't know where here daughter is. I'm not saying you had to live with her, but you certainly did not tell her where you were going. She's been out of her wits since. Have patience, Arya. Consider what she's been through."

Arya felt hot tears well behind her eyes. Tears she refused to let spill. "And what about me? What about what I've been through? You don't even know because you've been too busy."

Ned walked over to her, but Arya pulled back. "No, I don't want a hug. I don't even want to see you either."

Without waiting for a response, Arya walked over to the guest bedroom and locked herself in.

Lyanna walked over to her bedroom and put a hand over his shoulder. "Sure does bring back memories, doesn't it?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took a minute, but here's to chapter 3! I love and appreciate any feedback. Thanks for reading :3
> 
> I took off the chapter number limit because though I know how I want this story to unfold, I'm uncertain about how long it will take to do that. Hopefully not too long.


	4. Last Year's Roses

Chapter 4:

"Say what you will, and scratch

my heart to find

The roots of last year's roses in my

breast;"

-Edna St. Vincent Millay

"Last Year's Roses"

Arya felt nauseous as her father knocked on the door. Two hours or so had passed since her father arrived at her Aunt Lyanna's apartment. Arya thought that maybe he would leave back for Winterfell or the capital once it became clear she was not going to answer the door. Yet, in her father's true, determined fashion, he remained. And he nothing seemed to persuade him that any other course was possible. So, he knocked on the bedroom door once more.

Arya sat on her bed and sniffled into her arm. "Go away!" She called out.

Her father's was tired and pleading. "Arya, please open the door."

Did he not understand that she was not in a mood to see him? "No!"

Lyanna's voice cut in, and she pleaded along with her brother. "Niece, please let us both in. We have to speak to you."

Arya did not respond this time. She did not want them to hear her cry, but she was tired of yelling. Silence was her last resort, but it did not break her father's resolve.

The tenderness in his voice was enough to break Arya's heart. "Arya, I only want to talk. If we can do as much, and you still decide you want to stay with your Aunt Lyanna, I won't stop you. Please, my dear girl, let me in."

Arya felt as if she had a million reasons not to do so. She knew in her heart that she could not live in Winterfell after all that happened. She was not going to go to Smith. There was no way she could live the life they had planned for her. Not when her heart lingered for something more. But. The Great 'But' compelled her heart to do her father one last favor. She would hear him, but he would hear her, too. So, Arya stood up from the foot of the bed. With great trepidation, she walked over and let her father and aunt inside the room.  
\--  
War was nothing like how Gendry imagined. He figured out real quick that the radio programmers and posters put up around town by the draft board and military recruiters were loads of shit.

Being a grunt on the ground meant nothing but getting shit and being bored. Once he was on the ground of a muddy trench in France, he knew that he'd got the worst of his lot. There would be no honors, no medals, and no radio plays narrating his heroic feats.

In between the fighting, Gendr thought the worst part was the waiting. Mostly because he had to actually speak to the likes of his fellow soldiers. These boys, and they were largely young men ages eighteen to twenty-five, were about as stupid as some of the most annoying of his peers in Winter Town. The same guys who just wanted to chase skirts and goof off at the old saloon. For some reason, a fine example of this type, Lommy Green, immediately took to Gendry, much to Gendry's annoyance. Lommy was a grubby city boy and he was as green as could be. He often bitched about this or that because he appeared incapable of shutting up no matter how much Gendry did not respond him, or flat out told him to "shut his trap." Lommy was always whining about the rations, or about his missing his mom's meat loaf, or his girlfriend, Willow.

"You got a sweetheart at home, Waters?" Lommy would ask as they drank some rationed powdered coffee and ate dry-as-bone jerky.

Gendry chewed on his jerky while pondering the answer. He did, didn't he? Arya Stark was his love now. They said so exactly in letters. Sometimes he still had a hard time believing his fucking luck.They had made love before he left. That memory never left his brain no matter how bad things got. If anything, the hard days made these thoughts worse. In his mind's eye, he saw Arya in her overalls when they walked through High Heart, or he could almost feel the ghost kiss of her lips on his. Gendry's memories kept him feeling some hope even when bullets whizzed by his head or his commanders gave grave orders. There was just about nothing else he wanted more than to have Arya's body next to his at least one more time. He just had to get out of this shithole, first.

"Well, do you?" Lommy asked again.

Gendry spit on the ground. "What's it to you?"

Lommy sighed. "Christ, Waters, I'm bored as all get. Just thought we could shoot the shit. Hey, I got a sister back home, and she's real desperate to get a guy. She ain't much of a looker, you see. Maybe you two could be pen pals and it would cheer her up---"

Gendry cut him off. He sure as fuck did not want to talk about Green's sister. "I have a fiancé. That's the word for a girl you're gonna marry, right? Yeah, well, I got a girl at home who I'm gonna marry when I get back---"

"Would you two girls please shut the fuck up?" The big guy, Sandor Clegane, growled from the corner where he had been sleeping. Sandor rarely spoke if not to curse at them for being soft, or ponder loudly whether this place or his town in Jersey was a bigger pile of shit.

"We're just talking, Sandy!" Lommy said with a loud laugh. His crooked smile bright and wide.

Sandor's ugly scarred face only grunted. He thought Gendry and Lommy were on equal levels of stupid. "Talking about stupid shit like your fucking wedding dresses at home? I'd sooner die of these fucking bombs they're gonna throw down on us tomorrow than hear you two gossip for one more goddamn second. At least I got to that whore house in the town over before I had to die in this fucking place with a bunch of pussies like you, Lenny."

Lommy, looking very insulted, leaned over to make a fine retort, but Gendry didn't bother to stay and listen. He stood up from the ground, and stepped away from his bickering brothers-in-arms. Instead, he gazed up at the sky. Gendry let his mind wander to wonder if Arya was seeing a different sky. He found the missing hurt so much it made his heart feel like it was getting pounded by a hammer.  
\--  
Days passed in the same shit routine as far as Gendry was concerned. But, when the orders came in to prepare for oncoming combat, Gendry found himself missing the routine. He almost missed the waiting, even. However, he was also glad to finally get in the fight. Despite the fear that he knew all of his men wanted an answer because sometimes the waiting was what felt the most unnerving. The waiting for a future felt like torture when nothing was certain and all they had to get them by were their memories of home.

When the German forces marched on them, Gendry was ready. He was ready to live or die. With his rifle in his hand, he shot out into the air as thousands of bullets riddled the sky and pilots on both sides dropped bombs over the muddy ground like a hard rain. Gendry cast the weight of his bag onto the ground, and ran across the ground in search of an answer, or some safety, but he could find neither. Eventually, he felt the tumult of an enormous force behind him that was so strong that he fell down to his knees and the whole world around him went black.  
\-----  
A bright light shone over his eyes when he awoke.

"Oh, lovely! This lad's awake!" A chipper woman's voice said. Though Gendry's understanding was foggy, this woman seemed like the clearest thing he'd known in weeks. The woman was young, a nurse, and she had bright red hair.

Gendry coughed for a bit and tried to sit up, but he felt hard throbbing pains shoot throughout what felt like every limb. He felt pain in places he didn't know he had.

The red headed nurse firmly pushed his shoulder down back on the cot. "Now, lad, don't be in such a rush. You lot took quite a lashing. Your side won, but still, things were not very pretty when we got on the ground," Gendry blinked as the nurse stood back and straightened her skirt. "Truth be told, you're quite lucky to get out of this without any broken bones, with your legs attached, and frankly, you're blessed by the lord above to be alive. Frankly, I don't know if any of the men we found were blessed with a better bounty."

  
Gendry heard another scoff from across where Gendry's cot lay. The woman, another nurse, had a mop of curly hair. Her accent was foreign to Gendry's ears. Maybe French or something like that. Gendry wasn't too sure since he had little travel under his belt even after coming all this way. He'd mostly passed through small towns and battle fields without engaging the people of the country too much. The curly haired nurse was wrapping bandages around a man's injured leg. "No, Ygritte. The pilot. Jon Snow."

Nurse Ygritte whistled. "You're right, Meera. He's a pretty one. Blessed by the virgin herself. I was told he got pulled out of his own plane's wreckage."

The nurse tutted. "You sound in love. Ms. Snow should be your name."

The nurses kept up their conversation as the ward filled in with different men that they and their colleagues attended. Meanwhile, Gendry's mind filled with all the new information as he managed to regain full conscious despite the horrendous pain in his body.

He lived. He was in a medical field. Though the pain he felt was excruciating, he was not in dire need. The Nurse Ygritte told him he would be fit for service soon enough. While that sent a sense of dread in his stomach, he was also deliriously happy to have lived through the bullets and bombings. He lived another battle to go home, to see Arya. But, in addition to his happiness at survival, he also felt a mad curiosity to see this Jon Snow that the nurses discussed as well. Was he the same Jon Snow that came to Winterfell during the summers? Arya's cousin? Gendry knew Jon was a pilot in the army, but maybe it was another Jon Snow. The name was common enough. Gendry resolved to find out as soon as he could stand on his own two feet without feeling like he was going to faint of exhaustion and pain. In that moment, though, he would rest and dream of a girl with grey eyes, brown hair in messy braids, and old overalls that fit her so well he couldn't keep his eyes off of her.  
\---  
The drive back to Winterfell was a long one for Arya. As she sat in the backseat, she felt a dread of going back home and seeing her mother once more. She dreaded the disappointment on her mother's face. However, she also felt a sort of excitement that made her heart sore when she thought of what it would be like to be in her home again, and to see her mother's happiness upon seeing her if she was actually glad to see her.

Arya looked at her Aunt Lyanna sitting in the passenger seat while her father drove the car. She was laughing and talking about the good old times in Winterfell. The days when they were children. Her aunt's laughter was infectious. So infectious it brought a smile to Arya's face. Lyanna Stark seemed so perfect to Arya. She was brave and bold. She lived life on her own terms. Arya wanted that kind of life. Still, she wrestled with how she could possibly have such a life with all the restrictions demanded of her.

When Arya spoke to her father, he told her that they would make no more demands. Though her mother did not say the words, he was certain that she missed Arya. She wanted to reach out, but she didn't know how after all that happened. He told her that he understood Arya's own trepidation, but if she loved him, she would at least speak to her mother. They should be on speaking terms even if Arya chose to return to Manhattan with her aunt. Arya tentatively agreed if only to settle things with her mother if nothing else.

As the car rolled through the opened gates of Winterfell, Arya saw her mother standing outside. She was alone and dressed in one of her finest dresses. Her curly auburn hair looked quaffed and carefully done for the occasion. Arya could only note the stark contrast to her Aunt Lyanna, wild hair in the air, who donned a wool sweater and heavy trousers. Arya walked a slow pace behind her aunt and father after they stepped out of the parked vehicle. Catelyn's eyes never left Arya, but she embraced her husband first. After a genuine show of affection to her husband, Catelyn moved to give her sister-in-law a polite hug. When Arya crept closer to her mother, she could see her mother's Tully blues well up. Arya nearly cried as well, but neither she nor her mother broke their character. They exchanged a tense hug that lasted for all of a second or two before separating.

Ned Stark broke the silence. "I think we should all go inside. It's much warmer there."

The four of them had a nice lunch prepared with Lyanna's favorite meals.

Lyanna smiled sweetly at her sister-in-law when they were seated at the dining hall table. "You're very thoughtful, Cat."

Catelyn nodded, one of her perfectly drawn brows raised. "Oh, truly, it's nothing. I merely gave the cook a few suggestions. I know how partial you are to spicy food. I can't say I ever developed an appetite for such cuisines."

Lyanna blinked, but said nothing more despite a tense look coming upon her face.

Arya could not bare any more false pleasantries. "Mother, I want to talk."

Catelyn sat back in her seat. "About what?"

Arya set her shoulders as straight as she could and she raised her chin slightly when she responded. "About my leaving."

Eddard placed one of his hands over his wife's suddenly clasped hands. His solemn gaze was fixated on her. "Catelyn, I've spoken to Arya. She's terribly sorry for leaving without any word."

Catelyn remained silent. Her eyes seemed to be captivated by the glass of water next to her dish. Eddard continued when his wife did not respond. "But we feel like she would be better off living away from Winterfell."

Catelyn exhaled deeply before forcing her gaze onto her daughter. "Arya, is that what you want? To live with your aunt?"

Arya sighed. "I'm sorry. I think it's better this way. I don't think I'll be going to Smith either."

"Why not?"

"Because I want to help out with the war."

Catelyn and Eddard looked at each other with confused faces, but only her mother turned to face Arya and spoke. "How will you do that in Manhattan?"

And for once in what seemed like ages, Arya knew what was going to come of her destiny. "I'm not going to Manhattan either."

This time her Aunt Lyanna spoke. She was sitting right next to her niece. Her face was more curious than concerned. "You know I love having you around, but I'm happy to hear you have some new adventure planned. Where will you go?"

Arya smiled. "I'm going to move to Winter Town. Maybe I can help out with the wives and children and men all affected by the war. I think I'd be good at that."

Lyanna leaned over to kiss her niece's forehead. She then said, "Absolutely. There's no one braver or stronger than my little Arya Stark who is not so little anymore."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. The story maybe has one or two chapters left. Probably two! Things are coming to head and I'm so excited to finally complete a proper multichapter fic. Thank you for reading! All feedback is welcome to my clown heart. My little clown heart.


	5. Distant Land

"There, where my heart has settled long ago,  
I must go. I must go.  
Who could imagine I'd be wandering so  
Far from the home I love.  
Yet, there with my love, I'm home"  
"Far From the Home I Love" from Fiddler on the Roof. 

Chapter 5: Distant Land 

A shiver tickled down Arya's spine as she looked upon the cottage. Mr. Dondarrion walked her around, but he did not say much. Arya knew he was hurt something terrible in the Great War, so Arya did most of the talking. 

"Not a single person's inquired about the cottage?" She asked as the pair walked up the stairs leading up to the front door of the cottage. 

The older man sighed. "Not a one. All the single men are off to war, and forgive me for saying this, Miss Stark, but young women in Winter Town are either married or living at home."

Arya knew he meant no harm. "I suppose that's all true."

Mr. Dondarrion gave a small smile. "Would you like to see the inside?"

Arya nodded her head in response. In truth, time had not passed so much since she last saw Gendry, but it did feel like a lifetime had passed. And yet, she found her heart was keeping their last night's memories deep and precious as if stored away for future use. When she entered the tiny cottage, Arya felt her whole being stop. Life did not seem to move in the brief spell where she took catalogue of all of Gendry's old items and furniture. His bedding was still intact, the record player was a bit dusty, and a coffee cup was resting on the small kitchen table. 

"Why are all of Gendry's things still here?" Arya said as she thumbed a thin knitted blanket folded on the foot of the bed. She remembered the blanket. Specifically, she remembered how Gendry pulled the blanket to cover her from the cold even though they were exhausted and sweaty from their lovemaking. He knew the night would grow cold was all he could say. 

Mr. Dondarrion's voice was quiet. "I don't rightly know, to tell the truth. Guess I figured I could get some of it out if someone else came by. And, hey, maybe the boy would come back in the end."

Arya bristled at the of what Mr. Dondarrion said. "He will come back. And I'll be here when he does. How much is the rent?"

The question embarrassed Mr.Dondarrion. He stuffed his hands in his pant's pockets. "Oh, I don't know. The boy was paying about twenty dollars a month with his job at the factory. You think you can swing that, Miss Arya Stark?"

Arya sighed as she considered her finances. She had some money left over, but she plainly refused any help from her parents when she informed them that she would be leaving home. That fact tightened her purse strings significantly. At the moment, all she had in line for her when it came to income was a job offer at the factory. However, her starting pay was only going to be thirty cents an hour. 

"Would you be willing to rent the cottage out for twelve dollars a month? I promise I'll keep it tidy. You won't have to get rid of any of the furniture or anything---"

The older man cut her off. "It's yours. Fifteen is good for me. Take care of the place and you can take it. Have the rent check under my door on the first of every month. First month is on me."

Arya's eyes widened. "I can pay for the first month, really, you don't have to."

Mr. Dondarrion shook his head. "Gendry's been a good lad the whole time I knew him. He helped out whenever I asked without ever asking for pay except for maybe a glass of beer. The least I could do for him while he's gone is let his sweetheart have his place without pay for a few weeks."

Sweetheart. The word made Arya blush. "How do you know I'm his sweetheart?"

He shrugged. "No other kind of girl looks after her guy's home. That, and the whole town was seeing you two walk around and drive together for weeks before he left. We figured there was more going on."

So everyone knew before she and Gendry knew. Arya smiled, though she felt awkward doing so. "I see. Thank you, Mr. Dondarrion. Gosh, I don't think I could ever thank you enough."

Mr. Dondarrion said nothing. Instead, he pulled a set of keys from his pocket. These were the keys that placed in Arya's palm. "I have to go see Thoros. These'll be your copy of the keys for the cottage."

When he left, Arya went out to her car and pulled out the suitcases stuffed inside her car. Her new home was here. No other road taken could possibly feel more right or correct. 

\---

A couple weeks passed before Gendry felt well enough to walk his own, though he did need some help from crutches if he got too tired after a while. His time in the hospital had been boring. That was his only assessment apart from "fucking boring." Confined to his bed because of the aches in his body after the battle, he felt exhausted. All he had to do was sleep and think. Both of which seemed to drain him. Sleep did not feel so refreshing when there was nothing to do but sleep. And thinking felt like an ordeal when action could not follow any revelations. Therefore, Gendry could only feel plain glee when he was given a pair of crutches by Nurse Ygritte. 

"There you go, lad. These will do you some good, I think. At least they'll keep you from foostering about in your bed all day like you've been doing," Nurse Ygritte said as she observed Gendry taking his first steps with the aid of the crutches. 

As he grew more practiced with the crutches, his walk grew better. The air outside the makeshift medic tents was clear as if the world that surrounded it was in the greatest peril ever known. Gendry felt small all of a sudden. Before he came to Europe, he did not know what was really awaiting him. The news did not capture the real truths of war. They were a load of war. This all he could conclude after watching so many men in the tents die, including Lommy and Sandor Clegane. Why did he live and they die? Maybe there was an answer, but Gendry knew he would only know maybe after he died, too. 

There were only two other questions that captured his mind. Arya Stark and Jon Snow. Gendry found himself wondering whether Arya was safe, if she was happy. He wanted to see her even if it was only in a photo tucked inside a letter. But he was so far from any possibility of received a letter so he could only make out her thick, messy brown hair and toothy grin in his mind's eye. Maybe he was a weird guy, but he found himself loving her more and more each time he tried to reconstruct her in memory. 

Jon Snow was another matter altogether. Gendry had not seen Jon Snow for years. He wondered if he would even recognize him after his plane's crash. Gendry overheard the nurses go on about his the miracle of his survival. Nurse Ygritte said he was blessed and Nurse Meera agreed to a fashion. 

Eventually, Gendry picked up the courage to ask Nurse Ygritte if he could see Jon Snow, the fallen pilot kept in a private room. 

Her face looked incredulous. "And why would I be doing that?"

Gendry shrugged. "I don't know."

Nurse Ygritte gave a laugh. "You'll have to cook up a more likely reason than that, soldier."

A sigh came forth from Gendry. Only truth could help him now. "I think I know him. My, my fiancé, I think he's her cousin."

Gendry's words seem to affect Ygritte because she looked up from her clipboard. "Are you saying he's family, then?" 

Her question gave Gendry pause. He had to stop and consider. If Arya agreed to be his wife, and he sure hoped to god she would, then Jon would be family. The answer was clear. "Yeah, he's my family. So can I see him?"

Nurse Ygritte frowned. "It won't be a long visit. He's still recovering. Jon Snow, he's an awful chancer."

\---  
When Gendry entered the small tented corner squared off as Pilot Jon Snow's room, Gendry felt relief. 

"You've got a visitor, Jon Snow. You'll be glad to know it's family," Nurse Ygritte said brightly as she held open the curtain for Gendry to enter. Gendry could see Jon's face turn from a bright smile aimed at Ygritte to a look of surprise and confusion once he saw Gendry. 

His tired voice croaked out a question before either Gendry or Ygritte could speak. "Is that you, Gendry Waters? From Winterfell?"

It was clear to Gendry that he was tired. The question sounded like it was rung out of him. 

Gendry hobbled forward to Jon's bed. "That's right. You're cousin to the Starks. I remember those summers in Winterfell."

The comment brought a small smile to Jon's face. It wasn't as bright as what he gave Ygritte, but Gendry would take it. 

Nurse Ygritte snapped her fingers so the two men turned their attention on her. "Just lovely. Soldier Gendry was telling it true. You are family, after all. I got to go now and see some of the other patients. I'll be back later, Jon Snow. Hopefully, you'll have a good story to tell me at the end of the day. Everything's been so dull lately."'

Jon smiled with bright white teeth for the nurse. "I will, Ygritte."

She only tutted and walked away from the tent, leaving the two young men alone. 

Gendry cleared his throat before he spoke. He was leaning against the foot of the bed when he asked Jon,"How're you doing?"

Jon's solemn face frowned. "Not too great. I have a broken leg and two broken arms. One of the doctors said I was probably going to London, and then back home for more medical work than they can do here in the medic fields. My only luck is that I'm alive and they probably won't have to cut anything off."

Gendry didn't know what to say except give his sympathy, but Jon just said, "Thanks, friend. I'll be okay. But how about you? I heard a lot of the men on our side died."

The memories of Gendry's fallen brothers made him grimace. "I'm terrific. These crutches are just to get me used to walking. I'll be sent back into the field any day now."

Jon Snow frowned. "It's living. I'm only glad to be going home even if I have to be in a hospital."

The remembrance of home brought a sense of relief to Gendry. That's why he was in this tented corner with Jon Snow. 

Gendry pulled up the courage inside him. He would be as bold as he wanted. "Jon, I got something to ask you. When I heard the nurses talk about Jon Snow, I figured you might be Jon Snow from Winterfell."

Jon's dark brows furrowed. His grey eyes, so like Aryas, but they were also so different too in their character at least, narrowed. "Is that why Ygritte said we were family? You told her that so she'd let me see you."

Gendry could feel his face go red. "In a way. It's just...well, I don't know what Arya's told you, but I think we're sort of like an...item now."

There was no look of surprise on Jon's face. He looked only confused. "She wrote to me in a letter that she was in love with you. She also told me she left home because her mother disapproved. I won't lie, the news shocked me. But, she didn't mention if you became her family. Are you two secretly married?"

The question was hard to answer. Gendry frowned. "No, we're not. I wish we were, though," Jon coughed, but Gendry soldiered on, "And that's what I wanted to ask you about. Marriage."

Jon shifted as if he looked uncomfortable. "I got to say, Gendry, I'm not really looking to get married in the state I'm in."

Gendry couldn't help but laugh. "I meant, I think I want to marry Arya when I get back. If I get back. I mean, if she'll actually marry me. I don't have much to give a girl like her, but---"

Jon cut him off. "You're a good man, Gendry. I don't know how my uncle and aunt will take the news, but it seems like Arya's on her own path. If you can convince her that marriage won't be a total bust, you have my blessing."

A genuine smile was shared between the two soldiers.  
\---  
The factory was long, hard work, but Arya didn't mind. She was built for hard work. Some of the girls and women were catty and snickered behind her back. They thought she was just the spoiled, wild Stark daughter. 

But they're wrong, Arya thought. Each laugh made her more determined to do her work longer and harder. In no time, she was promoted due to her impressive ability to learn and her remarkable work ethic. Arya was no pris, and the other women in the factory soon discovered that much. 

In her work, she made friends with an older woman named Mrs. Crane. Mrs. Crane was fascinating to Arya. She was once a chorus girl in New York City, but she moved back to her hometown of Winter Town for love. It was just her luck that her husband ran off to marry some trollop in her own words. 

One of things Arya liked about Mrs. Crane was that she was dedicated to the war effort, but she had no interest in selling war bonds. In fact, it was Mrs. Crane who invited Arya to help out one of the war widows with childcare or visit the injured men returned back to the town. Arya loved helping them all. Each former stranger in the town felt like family when she entered their lives. The war had taken so much from everyone she met. Arya had not thought it would be so many, but she felt less alone in her own grief for Robb. She also felt less lonely when she confided with the other women and girls in her factories missing their sons, husbands, and sweethearts. In their shared experiences, Arya found solace. 

Weeks went by without a letter from Jon or Gendry. Arya felt unnerved when she pondered on that fact too long, but she always found something to keep her busy. Her mind at work was the best she could do to keep from assuming the worst.

Sometimes, she even went back to Winterfell to visit her mother and father. Arya knew things would never be as they were, but it was worth trying. Catelyn did not show it, but Arya knew she was hurt. Perhaps her mother would never understand why she left home. The best Arya could do was live her life and hope her mother would eventually find it in her to accept the decisions Arya made for herself. 

As the year of 1944 left summer, Arya heard news from all over the war on the radio news. The last thing she heard of Jon and Gendry's whereabouts, they were in France, so Arya was thrilled to hear of Paris' liberation from the Germans at the end of August. However, she was troubled by the ongoing news of more war the longer things went on. As fall rolled around, there was still nothing she could positively pin her hopes on. 

It was only near the eve of Christmas that a sign arrived. After a long shift at the factory, Arya went home to the cottage. Rather than listen to the radio, she played one of Gendry's leftover records. She sat in a recliner she purchased second hand, trying to envision a life she might have with Gendry if he returned. No, she thought, when he returned. 

Her fantasy was only broken at the sound of the telephone ring. The sound caused Arya to hop her chair and reach the phone. 

"Arya? Is this you? Your mother said I could reach you at this number." Lyanna Stark's voice was clear on the phone. There was a pressing quality in her aunt's voice. This was no friendly call for conversation.

Arya clutched the phone against her ear. She felt a horrible and wonderful mix of dread and excitement. "Yes, it's me, Aunt Lya. Is there something wrong?" The question felt as if she had wrenched it out, but there it was in the open. Arya had to know. 

"Oh, no, not in the fatal sense. Jon's hurt. I just received a phone call. He'll be in New York to receive treatment at a hospital. I didn't want to worry you or the family after Robb, and maybe I was in denial, but his pilot crashed. The letter I received didn't say whether he would live, only that he was critically injured. Now, well, now he's coming back after a stint with doctors in London. I thought you should know. I know he'd love to see you, Arya."

Arya didn't bother to fight the tears that spilled forth from her eyes. She held the phone to hear heart for a moment before raising it back to her mouth. "I'd love to see him. When will he be back in New York?"  
\---  
The drive to Manhattan felt like it took no time for once. Arya's heart was filled with utter joy and happiness at the prospect of seeing her cousin against. He was hurt, but he was also alive and home. 

She had to steal herself for a second before as she stood before the hospital where Aunt Lya said he was residing. Arya bit her lip before she walked in, practically sprinting, into the hospital. 

A nurse led Arya to Jon's room. Arya said her thanks to the young woman before the door closed. 

"Is that you, little cousin?" Said Jon's familiar voice. 

Arya smiled so hard she felt like her cheeks hurt. "Of course it is, stupid!"

Jon was sitting in his bed. One of his arms was in a sling and his leg was bandaged up. Arya was careful to hug him gently, but Jon pulled her in as tight as he could. 

"I missed you. It's been too long," Jon said with a choked voice. 

Arya could barely contain herself either. She wiped the wet from her eyes and sniffled a bit before saying, "It's been forever. How are you?"

Jon laughed. "I'm doing okay. Considering all the surgeries and physical therapy I've been through. My arm probably won't be the same when all is said and done, but at least it works."

Arya smiled as she took a seat on the edge of his bed. "So much has passed."

He nodded, looking very serious and spacey for a second before he fixed his eyes on her. There was a serious look in his eyes. "Arya, your...I guess I don't know what to call him. Your Gendry. I saw him in France. He was in the same medic field where I was first patched up."

Arya felt like her whole heart was set aflame at the news of Gendry. "You did? How was he?"

Jon frowned. "He was fine. Gendry is a tough guy. He was walking around cool as you please in crutches. I don't know what became of him after I was transported to London, though. As far as I know, he was good enough to get back out into combat. I imagine he's still fighting as we speak. But, Arya, I think you ought to know something about him."

A fear threatened to seize Arya, but she braced herself for whatever information Jon had to give her. "What is it?" Arya asked.

Jon took a deep sigh. "I don't know what you did to him, and please don't tell me, but he's got it in his head that he wants to marry you."

The earth seemed to lose its gravity underneath Arya. "He what?"

"That's what the poor guy told me. I told him that I wasn't sure you were the marrying type, but only you could answer his prayers, or not."

Arya smiled and let out an unbridled laughter. "Oh, he really is a fool. And that fool's going to be my husband."

As Arya gazed outside of the hospital room's window, she saw snow carefully everywhere descending. Her life was coming to her like the snow fell down on earth. First Jon, and soon Gendry, would come back to her as was natural and right. She had to believe that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Babies! And so the start of 1945 will start and the war will come to a close. Therefore, this fic is nearing its end and I'm so happy to get there.
> 
> Thank you for reading!! I appreciate it so much. Feedback is always welcome. I like to know what thoughts readers may have. It gets me pondering my work in a diff ent way because the pov of outsiders means a lot. 
> 
> If any of you feel so inclined to keep up with my fics outside of ao3, I'm mizznancywheeler on tumblr. I post a ton of gendrya content. Probably to an obnoxious degree but I adore them.


	6. So much depends

_"So much depends_

_upon_

_a red wheel barrow"  
_

_The Red Wheelbarrow. William Carlos Williams._

Chapter 6: so much depends

As spring came along, the world seemed brighter to Gendry. Things were going for well the Allies from what he heard so morale was up among the men, and Gendry was no exception for the mood was contagious. For the first time in what felt like ages, since before leaving Winter Town, Gendry allowed himself to dream. Not to simply vaguely imagine a hazy future so as to some hope on, but he actually let himself really dream. To imagine that his dreams could be detailed and realized in time. He imagined what it would be like to see Arya again. Gendry wondered what her hair would like, if she still wore her overalls, and if she still loved him as he loved her. If it was truly possible they could be something more than what they were before they left. Gendry did not want to just have a night with Arya. He wanted more. Before, the words of engagement sprung forth from his heart and rolled off lips, but he could not trust they would be a reality. So much depended on that future. However, things were different now. Since Gendry was working as a mechanic instead of fighting because of the beating he took out in the bombings, he was free to imagine his prospects of going home once he left the service. With his new skills, he figured he could earn better wages, and afford to at least compete with a rich girl like Arya's standards. Sure, she said she didn't care about things like that. And he believed it. But he felt like he still needed to be more. Gendry tried to make those differing sentiments meet somewhere in the middle. In a place that made sense.

When his fellow soldiers asked what he wanted for Christmas, all Gendry said was what all the other men said, "To be alive in 1945."  
\---  
Arya jumped for joy with all of her other coworkers in the factory when the war was formally announced. Nearly all the women hugged and cried in merriment. Their husbands, sons, brothers, and friends were coming home at last. Some men would never return, but they could feel relief for those who would. From the greenest girl to the coldest of crones, everyone allowed their hearts to feel the happiness of hope as though they had not dared to before that very moment. Arya knew that she felt the same way.

Jon's homecoming to the United States, though he was in bandages and casts, was pure joy for Arya. Letters home could never suffice in his absence. Once they were together in person once more, Arya realized how much she truly missed her favorite cousin. Though Arya could not stay with him in New York City as long as she wanted, she did miss him. But things were different now. Arya was a grown working woman with obligations. She had work to do at the factory and rent to pay. Jon did promise to call her whenever possible, though. So, Arya waited on his calls. It would only be a matter of time before they saw each other again since Jon and Aunt Lyanna promised they would be in Winterfell for the holidays.

But despite all the good news, Arya was still worried for Gendry. Only one piece of mail had reached her since the bombings that hurt him and Jon. She knew that the war made certain communications difficult, but the absence of his words still weighed on her heart. The last letter she received from Gendry was not hopeful, but it was not dire either.

_Dear Arya,  
I'm in one piece so that's a good thing, right? I don't know when this'll get to you so you this might be old news by the time you're reading this, but I saw your cousin Jon in the medic field. We both survived some bombs. He's a real brave one, your cousin. Don't worry about me because I'm okay. Took some bruising, but it'll keep me out in the forces, I expect. I wish I wasn't though. I know that's shit to say but it's true. I wish I was with you instead. Look, I've been thinking over some things. I don't want to say them in letter so I hope I can see you soon. I'm praying to the almighty that the war ends soon. Don't seem like he's listening but a guy can try._

_I hope you're safe and happy. Don't be blue on account of me. I don't know what's gonna happen next, but I do know I'll be thinking of you._

_Love, Gendry._

Arya kept the letter tucked into her wallet for safe keeping. When she had her breaks at work, she could look at the letter and reread its contents. Gendry was safe, he had things to say, and he signed off with "love." To tell the truth, Arya always thought romance novels were terribly silly. She had a tendency to skip over films and parts of books that spent too much time on the stuff. Yet, as she gazed on Gendry's untidy handwriting, Arya felt a silly love so deep, that she couldn't help but smile. Maybe it was okay to be stupid in love. Maybe.

Despite her day's exhaustion from work, Arya always made sure to check her mailbox before entering the cottage. For the most part, she found bills and junk mail with the occasional letter from Jon or her mother. Arya liked the personal correspondences, but she longed to finally get one from Gendry only to never find a letter from the soldier in her inbox. From the start of spring to the brisk fall, Arya did not receive a single letter from Gendry.

Until there was a miraculous letter in early December. Arya practically tore the letter open in front of the mail box.

_Dear Arya,_

_I hope this makes it before Christmas. The war is over now, but I'm not exactly sure when I'm coming back home. They're trying to figure out how to get us all back home, but I don't think it's all that easy. That said, I think I'm gonna be home by Christmas if the fates allow. At least that's what my superiors said. Wait for me on Christmas Day at the Moat Cailin Train Station. I'm certain that's where my stop'll be. I wish I could say more, but I think it'll be better if we wait. That way we can get to know each other for another time. I promise I got you a present but I won't tell you what. It'll be as surprise!_

_Love, Gendry._

Arya felt a howling in her heart, but for once, it wasn't for cold or fear. She was excited and full of love. Her pack was coming home.  
\-----  
The moment Gendry landed his feet on the soil of his homeland, he felt like the luckiest bastard alive. He was home, he was alive, and he had someone waiting for him. Gendry knew that most of the men that departed Winter Town with him were not so lucky. Based on what he heard, Gendry knew most were not. Gendry said a prayer under his breath for those fallen men, but he knew they deserved so much more than being memories. They deserved a chance to live just like him. If only to spite death, Gendry was ready to live.

The only problem he encountered were the trains. The fucking trains. For some reason, Gendry started off his journey in Florida. That meant he'd have to travel all the way north for days on end to end up in New York. Under normal circumstances, that would not be much of a problem. But, these were not normal circumstances. Christmas travel for 1945 in the United States was proving to be a massive pain in the ass for Gendry and every other soldier trying to get home.  
As the days passed with little movement, Gendry was becoming more certain, and also more aggravated, of the realization that he was not going to go home on Christmas Day.  
\----  
Christmas Eve in Winterfell was beautiful in it's pristine blanket of white winter snow. Arya had no desire to live in Winterfell again, but she could not bring herself to want a Christmas anywhere but home. Even Senator Stark made it home with his youngest sons in tow. Arya would not miss them for the world.

This Christmas Eve was so different from the previous year's Christmas celebrations, of course. There would never be a time like before the war, before Robb died. Arya knew they all still felt his loss. Yet, the Starks still managed to come back together even amidst all the uneven pieces of who they were now.

Arya was happy to see Jon was starting to walk on crutches. If he got too tired, he would sit in his wheelchair. Physical therapy was doing him some good, but he still had a long way to go according to his doctors. Bran and Rickon argued over who would push him around in chases around Winterfell's yard. The chases made everyone laugh, even Catelyn's eyes lit up a bit, when all the boys laughed. Aunt Lyanna nearly bowled over laughing when Jon, Bran, and Rickon all collapsed in roar of laughter on a pile of snow.

But Arya knew Jon liked it when she walked with him the best. She encouraged him to walk in his crutches even if it was difficult for him to do. The two were both bundled up in scarves and heavy coats as they walked along Winterfell's outer godswood.

"I'm glad to be back here," Jon said in a shiver.

Arya smiled at her shivering cousin with snow in his hair. He was never a Winterfell fit in some respects, but it didn't matter to Arya. "Me too."

"Do you think you'll ever move back home? Or do you truly plan to marry Gendry?" Jon asked.

Arya pondered the question for a second. She did not want to say never, but walking around her childhood estate, she felt the truth develop within her in a different way. "It's not like I hate Winterfell, or my mother. I know everyone thinks I'm just the rebel because I didn't want to go to Smith. Because I chose to live in Winter Town in a tiny cottage."

"Seems pretty rebellious for a debutante," Jon laughed.  
Arya fought the urge to smack him over the head. "You're lucky you're still in recovery. I'm not a debutante. Never was, never will be. But this is my home, too. It's not like how it was before last year, so I can't come back. My heart will always be here, but I have a new home now."

Jon stopped walking. His face was quite grave when he looked at Arya. "In Winter Town? With Gendry?"

The grey in his eyes held no room for untruths so Arya spoke her heart plainly. "For now, yes. In Winter Town with Gendry."

Jon smiled. "I'm glad to hear it. He's a good fellow. You could've done worse. I have to tell you something, too, Arya. Something I haven't told even my mother."

Arya's eyes widened. "Not even Aunt Lya?"

A sad nod came over Jon. "No, not yet. She won't like it, but I have to do it."

That confused Arya. "What do you mean? What do you have to do?"

Jon shook some falling snow off of his head. "Well, I'm kind of like you, Arya. I don't think the military or New York is quite right for me. So I'm going somewhere else."

A sinking feeling plunged Arya's heart in ice. "What do you mean? Where are you going?"

"I'm getting married. To an Irishwoman. So, I'm going to Dublin."

Arya gaped at him. "You have a fiancé? An Irish fiancé? How did you meet her? What's her name?"

Jon sighed heavy. "It's a long story, but she was a nurse for the Red Cross. Her name's Ygritte Kelly. We met when the bombs fell over..."  
\----  
On Christmas Day, just like the letter instructed, Arya waited at Moat Cailin Train Station. Arya was not alone in her wait for the soldiers. All sorts of people, men and women, boys and girls, young and old, were waiting for their soldiers return home. Even in the cold snow, their spirits were high.

But, as the hours passed, it became clear the trains would not arrive. The high spirits soon withered in the face of a hard truth. The soldiers would not be home in time for Christmas. Still, Arya was stubborn. Rather than gather herself and head back home like most of the parties gathered at the station, Arya remained until the station was nearly pitch black.

The drive home was long and somber. When she entered her cottage, the first thing was pick up a record and play it so loudly she could not hear her thoughts.  
\----  
When Gendry arrived at the station at nearly 4 AM, he hitched a ride with Podrick Payne's family back to Winter Town. As they drove back to the town, Gendry felt his heart feel lighter. After so long away from home, he was now so close it was both an elation and a torture.

Gendry's first stop was the cottage. He knew Arya was living here from a letter she sent to him explaining her new situation. It was all Gendry could do not to run out of the Payne's vehicle. He said a rather abrupt "thanks" before jumping out. The stars were still out, but it made no difference to Arya. If she wears asleep, he would awake her.

Gendry knocked fiercely on the door in excitement. When the door answered, he was met with a soft lamp light illuminating Arya Stark's lovely long face. She was wearing long pajamas and her hair was in a braid.

The sight of her was enough to steal his breath. "Arya, I---"

Before Gendry could finish, Arya jumped up into his arms. Gendry had just enough to composure to close the door behind them. Arya's legs wrapped around his hips as he walked them over to the bed where they crashed in a tumble of kisses and touches. Gendry wasn't sure who took off who's clothes. All he knew is that they were naked and sweaty in the heater's warmth before long. His army uniform and coat ended up piled on the floor over Arya’s pajamas. Gendry knew he missed Arya, and he knew he wanted her bad, but he had almost forgotten how bad his untold want for her was. How much he would travel any length to get to her, to feel her hot breath on his neck, or her soft breasts against chest, or slip in and out of her so wonderfully it made him feel slack jawed and delirious. When the pale light of dawn crept into the cottage through the kitchen's small window, Arya and Gendry were wrapped up in each other, limbs tangled, and their mouths were softly kissing and nipping at each other. They were in the haze of love.  
\----

They wed at the Winter Town Court House within a few months. Gendry’s promised surprise was a small engagement ring that Arya thought was finer than any she’d ever seen on a debutante’s hand. Arya's abrupt courthouse wedding and makeshift reception at the Winterfell grounds was enough to drive Catelyn and Sansa into madness as they attempted to assemble the wedding into something presentable, but Arya and Gendry would have none of it. Arya only agreed to wear Aunt Lya's unworn wedding dress from her broken betrothal over twenty years before the wedding. Catelyn nearly had a heart attack when she discovered this heirloom in Arya's things, but Arya insisted it was not her choice. Ultimately, Catelyn was convinced by Eddard that it was better to leave things as they were. Arya was a woman and could make her own decisions.

Eddard whispered how beautiful and kissed her head when he gave her away at the alter. "You're not my little girl anymore, Arya. You're an adult. I'm proud of you. I know you can be strong." Arya nearly refused to let him go. But her father was right. She could be strong. She had the wolfblood in her. The world was hers to see and change.

Gendry agreed on that matter without any issue. When Arya told him she wanted to travel across the country with him, he was happy to hear of it. Gendry had always wanted to see the country, too. They were still young and life had so much to offer. With the war over, Gendry could imagine a life bigger than before ever since he started to dream again. If they could do see the world together, then it was all the better. The west did look rather fun to him if the Hollywood films were any indication. He had also seen some photographs in magazines and school books that looked mighty interesting to him.

Arya smiled when he said as much as they sat together at their reception table while the others danced, drank, and laughed at this strange wedding upon the grounds of Winterfell. A Stark girl and a Winter Town boy. No one could have foretold it. Arya thought on that as she said, "I'm glad you want to travel, too. We'll have to get as much travel as possible before."

Gendry pushed back her veil. His face was screwed up in confusion. "What do you mean. Before what?"

Arya poked at the cake on her plate. Hot Pie made it just for their wedding. It tasted good, but it did make her feel a little nauseous because of her recently discovered condition. "Well, you know, before the baby comes along. I would rather they be born right here in Winterfell."

The words made Gendry's eyes go as wide as flying saucers. "A baby? You're, you're pregnant?"

Arya nodded, her face blushing even though she was not sure why. That's what happened when people fucked, she thought. They got pregnant. "But who knows? Maybe our baby would like to be born along the Grand Canyon."

FIN. 

BONUS PHOTO OF ARYA AT THE WEDDING. PHOTOGRAPHED FOR THE WINTER TOWN GAZETTE. PHOTOGRAPHER: BRAN STARK. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shaking and crying! I'm so pleased to have actually finished a multi-chapter fic. I will miss these two, but I'm also happy to free up brain space and time for my other works in progress and in head development. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! I appreciate the feedback so much. I wasn't sure how much people would gravitate to a story like this, but the consistent readers and comments have made it worth it. Again, thank you!! My heart is positively swole at this point. Muah!

**Author's Note:**

> I have about half of this fic written already. The second chapter will be posted shortly. I originally intended to publish this story as a one-shot but I decided installments might work better for the readers. Also, for my brain. My goal is to have this fic posted by the end of week in its entirety so I can clear out some brain space for axgweek and to focus on my other wips. 
> 
> I hope you like it! Thank you for reading. Feedback, positive and/or constructive, is appreciated. I wrote this fic from the perspective of an American because that's where the lion's share of my world war 2 knowledge is based on as an American.


End file.
